


a little push.

by xisanamii



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, I MEAN so it's not like entirely romance based tbh if anything you'd have to squint pretty hard, Other, bc we all need to grieve okay, but i set it up for that and stuff i guess??, for chapter two tho, luckily trahearne is an Excellent Tissue, tbh i just wanted closure because i was not okay when our mentors sacrificed themselves, unfortunately it was REALLY DIFFICULT to keep it order-neutral so i just went with the vigil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 14:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11150547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xisanamii/pseuds/xisanamii
Summary: "you're allowed to cry." that's all they needed to break apart. and fortunately, he could be that shoulder they needed to cry on. two-shot.





	a little push.

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello this is my first gw2 fanfiction... sorry it has to be something we've all probably seen before. however, for this i hope to bring more introspection to the player character and give them more emotions than the cutscenes, because i refuse to believe they were Okay (tm) after watching their mentor sacrifice themself. forgal was a good grumpy dad-friend. even if he was tsundere about it.
> 
> anyway yeah so basically this is the first half of chapter six lol but condensed and i'm gonna stick in more scenes in order to detail the commander's grief. or i'll try to at least. i haven't written the second part yet, but it'll likely end with the... comforting part.
> 
> also i guess the PC is lowkey not a sylvari since i made trahearne speak about his wyld hunt to further fain their trust and curiosity (as i implied they didn't know what it was) but i don't think it has too much of a prominent effect on the story.
> 
> trahearne is an enigma and concrit would be gr8 if y'all got advice on how to portray him ahah

Grief is something that people always seem to dismiss. Especially in these times of strife and war, it almost seems to be a commonplace feeling. As the threat of the Elder Dragons continues to exist, people should have accepted it as a normality. Everyone will die one day...

Such beliefs are not what should be dictating their lives though.

“Go. I will not fail.”

The distress in the Warmaster’s eyes are clear. Even from his position, supporting the wounded Mira, Trahearne can easily detect the visible anguish that racks through the Warmaster’s body as Forgal turns around, into the fortress that is destined to fall. When the gates slam shut, there’s a chilling silence, one that no one seems intent on breaking.

It is sad, and Trahearne also feels disheartened by the loss of his old friend, but they have a job to do. The Warmaster does not move, staring at the closed gates in belief, so the sylvari scholar approaches them and speaks.

“Mira is in bad shape.” His voice seems to jolt the Warmaster out of a spell. “You’ll have to cut a path for us.”

They look at the sylvari, before exhaling sharply and nodding in agreement. Trahearne notes that their eyes are devoid of any tears and the previous anguish is gone, replaced by a burning fire and determination. They lift up their weapon and rush ahead of all the remaining Lionguard, already striking down the Risen that were intent on blocking their path to the ships.

“Lionguard! Follow me!” Trahearne calls out, following after the Vigil warmaster with renewed determination of his own. All hope had seemed lost, the Lionguard has also given up, but seeing the back of the Warmaster, strong and regal, there was a new will rising in them all. A smile tugs at Trahearne’s lips, though concern is also a veil underlying it. 

Even if they were strong, they surely were still affected greatly by this loss.

Perhaps time will tell. “Hurry, to the ships!” The sylvari pulls himself out of his brief thoughts, watching as Risen bodies fell left and right, no thanks to the Warmaster’s quick and efficient slaughtering. “This sacrifice will not be in vain!”

And in vain it was not indeed. The Warmaster had secured the way to the ships, and Trahearne assists the Lionguard in boarding it safely.

“Do you know how to steer a ship, Trahearne?” The Warmaster asks curiously, though he can tell it’s a question as a way of small talk. Their heart is not here at the moment.

“I do,” he answers, gently setting Mira onto a crate. “While I do, can you administer temporary first aid to anyone who needs it?” They nod absentmindedly, making their way over to Mira. 

Trahearne notices that they spare another wistful glance to Claw Island before they force a smile, asking Mira how she was feeling before activating a healing spell. They continue this process stoically, with the occasional amiable smile of reassurance to the distraught Lionguard.

If someone has to be strong, they think, then they will take up that mantle.

News spread like rapid fire once they reach Lion’s Arch. Or perhaps one of the Lionguard had taken it upon themselves to start spreading news before they had landed with a messenger bird. Either way, it had not been but ten minutes when Trahearne and the Warmaster exited the medical bay when a messenger owl flies over to the Warmaster.

It’s a letter from the General, detailing remorse of Forgal’s death and instructions for the Warmaster to follow. They allow Trahearne to read as well, and the sylvari cannot help but notice the last line the General wrote.

[Be strong.]

“Warmaster,” Trahearne begins, a light frown of concern creasing upon his face. Too many expectations can drown a person. From what he had seen of the Warmaster, they were headstrong, steady and resilient, but also gentle-hearted — those were the most concerning traits. With a heart like theirs, he would have expected them to show their grief externally. Perhaps he was wrong?

When they wistfully smile at him, though, he knows he is right. And that is why he should address it if they will not.

“What is it? Do you want to come with me to Fort Marriner?” They laugh. “You’re welcome to. I’m sure the General will be happy to see you.” There’s no opportunity for him to speak as they motion for him to follow them. Trahearne sighs softly. Maybe it was impudent of him to do so. After all, they did not know each other well. If the Warmaster should grieve, it should be done around someone they have known for much longer.

They’re at Fort Marriner, and the Warmaster salutes Almorra when they approach. Small conversation is made between Trahearne and the General before she addresses the Warmaster with a solemn look.

“At ease, Warmaster. I heard what happened at Claw Island. The Lionguard — no, the whole city — owes you a debt of honor.”

The Warmaster inhales sharply. “I just did my duty, ma’am. Forgal was the brave one. He gave his life to save us.” Their voice cracks just slightly, but they remain steadfast in front of their General. Lips pressed into a thin line, their gaze remains impassive as Almorra nods.

“He will be remembered as one of the Vigil’s greatest heroes... and he will be dearly missed.”

“Forgal’s sacrifice held them back, but it was your bravery that led us to safety, my friend.” Trahearne inputs, smiling gently at the Warmaster. They look surprised by his remark, blinking once as he continues. “I am grateful to you. If I can aid in this defense, I’m at your service.”

They cannot help but smile in response. How could they not? It was a nice thing to hear after what they all had been through. Still, their smile doesn’t quite reach their eyes, but they do their best to give an appreciative look before Almorra briefs them on their plans.

Making their way to the beach, Trahearne follows after them. “You can’t do this alone. I’ll stand with you.”

They grin sheepishly. “I wasn’t planning to. Did I give off the impression that I was that foolhardy?” Though given their current emotional state, they wouldn’t be surprised if they had indeed charged at a horde of Risen on their own.

“I... didn’t mean it like that. My apologies.” The sylvari laughs, although this time it lacks amusement. “The Vigil troops may hold this beach, but more undead will come. We need a better solution.”

The Warmaster hums their agreement, but nonetheless, slips their head armor back on as they draw their weapon. “We’ll find one. But for now, we make a stand — here.”

Just as they finish speaking their sentence, Risen spawn in great numbers from the waters. They were prepared, but so was the Vigil. A matter of time passed until the assault is finished and the Vigil soldiers cheer for their victory.

“Well done, soldiers! That should thin out the undead and take pressure off Lion's Arch for a while longer.” Almorra nods her approval. And while this is a merry occasion, Trahearne hates to be the bearer of bad news, but the fight is not yet done.

“The Vigil bought us time, but not advantage. The undead don't get weary, and they have an almost unending supply of troops. We must retake Claw Island and drive Zhaitan from these shores.” Almost apologetic as he delivers the realistic side of the news, that the fight is far from being finished, Trahearne turns to Almorra. “General Soulkeeper, there are many brave souls throughout Tyria who may be willing to lend a hand, if the Vigil reached out to them.”

The Warmaster remains silent, lost in their thoughts as Almorra huffs her agreement. “True. A few come to mind. A norn called Fibharr has been making his name in the tournaments. Fights like a rabid drake. I also know two fine charr soldiers that I've been trying to recruit for years—Snarl and Galina. They'd be a tremendous help.”

The minute Almorra is done speaking of their options, however, the Warmaster jumps onto it immediately. “These sound promising. I could go, ma'am, and speak on behalf of the order.” They’re eager to find something to occupy their time. Anything to keep their mind off of what had happened.

“Good initiative. Pick one or the other, and do your best to bring them aboard.” Initiative, was it? But Trahearne can see clearly that the Warmaster’s ulterior motives are to further distract themself from the sorrow they are experiencing at the moment. “Meanwhile, I'll return to Vigil Keep and rally our crusaders there.”

Trahearne decides to speak with caution. “Whatever you decide, I'm going with you.” His voice leaves no room for protest, but perhaps the other has grown weary of arguing. “You need the help—and I owe it to Forgal.” He watches their reaction, and sure enough, the mention of their mentor causes a shift in their expression just slightly. They are still hurt. Of course. Trahearne didn’t expect for them to overcome their grief so easily. Yet he cannot help but feel as if letting it out would aid them greatly in terms of their emotional burden.

“What are their strengths? Start with the norn.” The Warmaster cuts to the chase, and Trahearne complies. Still, he has a feeling that he knows what they will choose. And sure enough, they choose to recruit Fibharr, the norn gladiator who had been making a name for himself recently.

"I’d rather deal with a stubborn egoist than two drunken charr,” the Warmaster laughs. “Well, hopefully the norns won’t be drunk either...”

The sylvari scholar chuckles. “Hopefully not. Then, let us be on our way.”

Fortunately, they manage to hitch a ride on a caravan headed for Krongar Pass. The ride there is spent in silence, mostly because the Warmaster decides to take a brief nap while Trahearne directs his attention to outside. He has a feeling that fate was at their playing field at the moment. He may have made the decision to accompany them, but how coincidental it must have been to meet them initially alongside Forgal with the same intentions at Claw Island.

Their fates have crossed. And Trahearne feels it necessary to see it through to the end. He knows he could not be a replacement for Forgal, no... far from it. Forgal had a different relationship with the Warmaster. It's akin to a sylvari's relationship with the Pale Tree.

Trahearne isn’t sure if the Warmaster trusts him. Sure, they had fought against Risen together... but would they be trusting of someone they had not met before? It seemed as if they hadn’t heard of him before either. He had an inkling because Forgal put in a good word for him, as well as Almorra’s amiability with the sylvari, the Warmaster would be all too willing to trust the sylvari.

He appreciates that, but he would also like to put in a few words for himself to ensure that their current partnership would go well. And perhaps he may be the person they could confide their grief in. It is worrying, how they could seemingly hold it all in. For the sake of the battle ahead of them, it was best if they let their emotions out. A task easier said than done. But he will give them information about himself one by one, so that rather than being a stranger recommended to them by their trusted companion, he is a friend they can come to trust more easily.

The caravan stops, and the Warmaster jolts awake before Trahearne is given the opportunity to awaken them. With a yawn, they hop out, the sylvari following suite as the moot comes into view.

“This moot is for tournament champions. No doubt, Fibharr will be here, telling tales of his glory,” Trahearne sighs, walking alongside the Warmaster as they turn their head to shown their attention to his words. “I dreamed of Orr, as Caithe did. But where she saw a dragon to fight, I saw a land to heal.”

The Warmaster arches an eyebrow curiously. A dream? Was it a prophetic dream, by the way he was speaking, or something else entirely?

“At least Caithe had a tangible target. I barely knew where to begin.” The sylvari shakes his head, but before the Warmaster can question what exactly he is talking about, they arrive at the moot. Fibharr is already telling tales of his recent victory, boasting of his power and talent.

“This will be difficult, Warmaster. I hope you are ready.”

“What’s so difficult?” They ask, blinking at the other.

“These norn are at the top of their fighting class. You will have to beat them before they will join us.”

“Do you know much about norn fighters like these?”

“Norn are boisterous, but their hearts are good. They will be moved by our need—but for pride's sake, we will have to fight.”

A breathy laugh escapes the Warmaster. Just like Forgal, huh? “Right. We’ll show Fibharr our mettle, and then ask them to join.” Trahearne nods his assent, and the two approaches the boasting norn, who immediately takes notice of the Warmaster’s armor.

“Oho! You're from the Vigil. Finally decided to come pay respect to the victoriffic Fibharr Ygosson?”

The Warmaster cringes immediately. “I'm here on behalf of General Soulkeeper. Lion's Arch is in danger, and the Vigil is readying soldiers... You do realize "victoriffic" isn't a word, right?”

“Defend Lion's Arch? A noble cause. Still, sounds like I'd be just one sword among many. Sorry. Not my style.” Fibharr pauses, before assuming a prideful look as he huffs. “...and it is a word if I say it's a word.”

The Warmaster looks to Trahearne desperately, as if to ask ‘Why did I choose him again?’

The sylvari scholar laughs, shaking his head as he waves over Fibharr to garner his attention. “Your tournament conquests are second only to your fame as a gambler, Fibharr. I propose a wager. My companion and I versus the rest of you.”

The norns surrounding them break out into whispers immediately whereas Fibharr snorts in bemusement. “Ha! Do you realize you're facing an encampment of tournament champions? You're victorifically insane!”

Trahearne merely smiles complacently while the Warmaster scratches their cheek in thought, responding to the norn. “ If we win, you and your companions join us to defend Lion's Arch. And if you win... uhm...”

“If I win, you two have to carry my pet dolyak to the encampment! He can't make it up that steep hill.” 

Automatically, the Warmaster glances from Trahearne to themself. Of course, they have the utmost confidence that working together with Trahearne is a definite victory. Still... the sylvari scholar didn’t look too sturdy on the off chance they did have to carry that dolyak they saw earlier up a hill. Well... they'd just have to win then. Simple. Right.

“Prepare yourselves for the challenge!” Fibharr guffaws, moving to the outside of the ring while the Warmaster and Trahearne take their place inside it.

“Looks like we’ll be fighting in a row, Trahearne,” the Warmaster comments, drawing their weapon. “You think we’d get tired out before we reach Fibharr? What are the chances of us winning?”

Trahearne hums. “A hundred percent, since we are fighting together.” They almost trip over flat ground, no thanks to his blatant honesty.

For the first time in a while, an amused smile tilts upon their lips. “Right. Let's get to it then.”


End file.
